The Beginning in the End
by Kasey of Gallifrey
Summary: Fred has been in love with Daphne for quite some time, but he's never been able to tell her. Now, when a tragic development occurs on a case, it may be his last chance to ever let her know. Lame title and not a very good summary. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**I know this is kind of a dark story, but I got the idea for it and decided to write it. I hope you enjoy it, and please review. Oh, and this is my first Scooby-Doo fanfic and it's 12:30 in the morning right now, so be nice! Thanks :)**

The epic chase was always Fred's favorite part of a case. The rush of adrenaline through the bloodstream, the pure excitement as the stakes were raised, and the knowledge that the whole mystery was one step closer to unraveling: each of these things made the chase extremely appealing. Unfortunately, this epic event usually only happened after one of Fred's carefully designed traps went awry.

That was exactly what happened on that warm June evening. The members of the gang had just graduated high school, and their mystery-solving abilities had gained more credibility among those in Coolsville and surrounding areas. A local farmer and his wife had called Mystery Inc. for some help. A demonic and terrifying scarecrow was running around and scaring people away from their land. Three families had already been forced to sell their farms, horrified that the evil creature might come back and wreak more havoc.

After a few misguided attempts, several clever deductions, and many, many snack breaks, the gang finally determined that the culprit was Stephen Brookes. He wanted the owners to sell their farms so he could buy them at extremely cheap prices. With all that rich, fertile farmland, he could make a fortune on the crops produced.

Scooby and Shaggy managed to lure Brookes to an old abandoned farmhouse. Here, he fell right into Fred's brilliant—albeit a bit complicated—trap. Yet, as always, something went wrong. Now Scooby was hanging by his tail from a chandelier with a mouth full of soap, and Brookes had run up to one of the two upper levels.

"He's up there somewhere," Fred murmured. "Alright, gang, it's time to split up and catch this guy. Shaggy and Velma, you guys can take the third floor. Daphne and I will cover the second. Scooby, try to get yourself down and make sure to get Brookes if he somehow gets back down."

Fred took Daphne's hand and led her up the stairs, finding his thoughts straying a bit from the present case. They'd known each other since they were ten years old, and after all that time, he discovered it was impossible not to fall for her. She was perfect in her own way, even with her flaws. However, despite his disgustingly romantic feelings, he hadn't found the time or found the words to tell her about it.

_Focus, Fred_, he scolded himself as they reached the second story. He dropped Daphne's hand and noticed how cold his own felt without hers.

The stairs led to a hallway. There was one door to their immediate left as well as three farther down the passage. By the railing to their right sat an old bench, its wooden legs rotting and its cushion faded and worn. It must have been left there for at least twenty years.

"Let's try this room first," Daphne suggested, gesturing to their left. The spark of panic in her eyes showed Fred that she—like him—had just realized that they were completely weaponless.

Fred nodded, putting on a brave face. He walked in front of the petite redhead and gently pushed the door open, fully prepared for Brookes to jump out at them. Fortunately, the room was empty and quiet when they walked in. The old floorboards creaked under their feet as they entered to look around.

It must have been a bedroom at one point. The empty frame for a bed stood against one wall, still standing despite its long neglect. There was an antique writing desk in the corner beside the closet, and an old lamp was slanted precariously on a nightstand. The floor was scattered with papers and food wrappers from people who had visited the place after its abandonment.

Fred nodded at the closet, approaching slowly and quietly (though that was made rather difficult by the deafening creak that sounded whenever he took a step). Daphne tried to inch forward as well, but he held a hand up to stop her. There was no need for her to put herself in any unnecessary danger. He reached for the closet door, twisted the knob, and…

Nothing. There was no one in there, not even a scrap of cloth left behind by the previous owner.

Fred turned around, feeling rather relieved but still terribly anxious. He had a small smile on his face. His little grin was short-lived, for when he turned around, he saw not only Daphne but also Brookes and his rather intimidating gun.

Fear and unnerving alarm exploded in the pit of his stomach as he saw the man raise his weapon to Daphne's temple. He found it hard to breathe properly when he glanced at the look of utter terror in her eyes. She was biting her lip and her breathing was ragged.

Brookes pushed Daphne away from him so that she was standing next to Fred. He kept his gun aimed in their direction, flicking between one kid and the other every so often. "I just want to talk for a bit, okay?" His voice was surprisingly smooth, but the sound of it—so calm yet so manic—made him seem even more dangerous. "I have a proposition for you. If you let me leave and you get your little friends to stop chasing me, I'll make sure that both of you live. I think that's a fair trade: my freedom for your life."

Fred glanced down at Daphne, who was all but quivering with fear. He took her hand in his own, squeezing it gently, and she seemed to relax a bit.

"So, what'll it be?" Brookes pushed on. "Do you and your girlfriend want to wake up to see tomorrow, or do you want to make sure that a petty criminal like me goes to jail? Hmm? The choice is yours."

"I don't want to die," Daphne whispered to Fred in a hoarse, shaking voice. She could have made the decision herself, but she was leaving it up to Fred. If he wanted to keep going after this guy, she wouldn't argue, but she was giving him her input before he came to a conclusion.

"Neither do I," he admitted. He then turned to Brookes. "You're not worth risking our lives. Go on, leave."

A wicked grin spread across the man's face. "Well, I knew you'd be reasonable." He almost turned to leave but seemed to remember something that kept him back. "In case you lot _do _decide to come after me while I'm heading out, I think I'll just keep a little hostage. You should do nicely," he said, flicking the gun carelessly at Daphne.

He took a step toward her, but Fred was faster. He pushed the redhead out of the way and blocked Brookes' path.

That's when it happened. The whole world seemed to slow down. Fred glanced over and saw Daphne, fear and horror etched into her pretty features. He thought about all the good times they'd had together and about how that expression—the one that she was wearing so blatantly at that moment—was the one that he hated with a passion. He never wanted her to be that afraid again. He thought about the fact that he was only eighteen, but he knew that it was _extremely _likely that this girl was his soulmate. He wanted to be with her and care for her and protect her from the horrors of the world.

But things happen to disrupt such plans. And one of those things was happening right now.

The gunshot rang out through the air, cutting through the peace and antiqueness that the house possessed. Fred, unable to really grasp what was happening, felt an awful pain somewhere in his chest. It was truly worse than anything he'd ever experienced before. The wave of hurt ripped through him, leaving a trail of searing agony and pooling blood.

He fell to the floor, almost in slow motion, as Brookes ran through the door. Distantly, he heard a dog growling and a struggle going on. The pain near his heart became less intense. No, wait, that wasn't really true. Rather, the pain had stopped screaming for his full attention. It had now morphed into an excruciating ache.

Daphne rushed over, tears streaming down her face. Her blue eyes were turning red from all this crying. Fred couldn't really hear everything that she was saying to him. The words seemed so far away, muffled and fading. He focused, trying to catch the sound of her voice.

"Everything's going to be alright," she told him. Her voice was cracking and she put her hands over his wound. She had seen people do this on TV shows whenever someone was shot, and it made her feel like she was doing _something _to help. "I've called the ambulance. They'll be here soon. Oh, dammit, Freddie, why did you have to be such a hero? Why did you have to jump out and protect me?"

"Because I love you," he managed to say. Speaking required more effort than he remembered. So did breathing. It was all becoming so much more difficult. "Always have…always will." Why was his chest hurting so badly again? He couldn't quite remember. Everything was going a bit fuzzy.

Daphne's sobs intensified. Why was she crying over him? Things would be alright. She'd said so herself. "I love you too, Freddie. I really do. I wish you'd told me sooner."

Her words should have been happy, so why was she so sad? There was no reason to be bawling like this. His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt as Daphne leaned down and pressed her lips to his. They were so soft, so sweet, he could have stayed like that forever. It was a simple kiss, chaste with no tongue. That was good, though, as he didn't have much energy for a make-out session.

When she pulled back, her face was still streaked with tears, but there was a sad smile on her face. Fred was grinning as well, and he thought he'd never been happier. He started to sit up, thinking that it was silly to be lying down like this. He was stopped as the agonizing pain manifested itself once more. He had almost forgotten why he was hurting this way. Everything was so blurry.

Daphne seemed to notice the distant look that had taken over Fred's blue eyes. "Fred, stay with me. Just concentrate on my voice. Stay with me, Freddie," she told him urgently, her crying starting again with renewed vigor.

Her voice faded a bit and he stopped listening. Of course he would stay with her. There wasn't a thing in the world that could make him leave. He leaned his head back, noticing that spots of black were starting to encroach on his vision. There was a faint ringing in his ears and the pain in his chest slowly melted away until it was almost completely dulled. He was feeling very tired, more tired that he'd ever felt in his life. He allowed his eyes to gently drift shut. Daphne was still pleading with him, but she was growing more and more distant by the second. He was just going to fall asleep for a bit, to rest up because he honestly doesn't think he can stay awake for another minute. His mind felt foggy and distant, but there was a sort of peace that he allowed to come over him. He sighed, floating farther and farther away.

Everything would be alright. Daphne had said so herself, and she would never lie to him about something like this.

Right?

* * *

><p><strong>Don't forget to review and tell me what you thought! Constructive criticism is always welcome.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I know this story was supposed to be finished, but I really just wanted to write another Scooby-Doo fanfic. Credit for this chapter goes to WolvenPrincess who gave me the idea of writing it in Daphne's point of view.**

Daphne was excited. They were nearing the end of the case, and she could almost _taste _the victory. This guy, Stephen Brookes, had been mascarading as some sort of creepy scarecrow to scare local farmers into selling their land. Fortunately, Mystery Inc. had been able to solve the case with very little difficulty. This guy wasn't all that intelligent. He thrived off of his victims' fear rather than his own intellectual abilities. It was fairly easy to connect the dots back to Brookes once the gang had proved themselves to be undaunted by the costumed man.

And, as per usual, Fred had come up with a plan that would (in theory) nicely capture and detain the culprit. Unfortunately, because Mystery Inc. just seems to have rotten luck on these matters, this plan, like so many others, was doomed to fail.

It started with Shaggy and Scooby luring Brookes to an abandoned farmhouse off a lonely stretch of road. When the three came crashing through the door, Fred's plan was set in motion. After a series of pulleys had been employed, catapults had been launched, and soap had been dispensed, Scooby was hanging upside down from the chandelier while Brookes dashed for the stairs. They could hear his footsteps on one of the two upper floors.

"He's up there somewhere," Fred announced the the group. Daphne stood next to him, her arm brushing against his. She wasn't sure if he even noticed the contact. "Alright, gang, it's time to split up and catch this guy. Shaggy and Velma, you guys can take the third floor. Daphne and I will cover the second. Scooby, try to get yourself down and make sure to get Brookes if he somehow gets back down."

Shaggy and Velma nodded in response, and Scooby let out a soapy burp, a few bubbles floating out of his mouth.

As they prepared to head up the stairs, Fred grabbed Daphne's hand. She felt a familiar fluttering sensation in her stomach. She scolded herself. She was eighteen, far too old to be so easily excited by something as simple as holding hands. Still, it was undeniably nice to have Fred's warm palm pressed against her own, their fingers intertwining pleasantly. It was all very distracting.

Fred dropped her hand when they reached the second floor, and Daphne reminded herself that she most certainly should not be feeling sad about this.

The stairs led to a hallway. There was one door to their immediate left as well as three farther down the passage. By the railing to their right sat an old bench, its wooden legs rotting and its cushion faded and worn. It must have been left there for at least twenty years.

That's when it hit her: they were completely defenseless. There was no way for the two to fight off Brookes if they found him. They had no weapons, no martial arts training or anything like that. It was really quite terrifying to think about.

Trying to ignore the panic that had come over her, Daphne said, "Let's try this room first." She pointed to a door to their left.

Fred nodded in agreement. Just before his face was covered by a mask of confidence, Daphne thought she could see a bit of worry and fear spark in his eyes. However, Fred soon walked toward the room, his head held high, and there seemed to be no trace of anxiety or doubt in his brave posture any longer. He tensed as he pushed the door open as if preparing for Brookes to attack. Thankfully, nothing happened.

Daphne followed him in, trying to keep a reasonable distance between them. _When did I become so juvenile_, she wondered. It was ridiculous for her to be even _thinking _about Fred like that when they were in the middle of a very dangerous investigation.

She shook these thoughts out of her head and looked around. An empty bed frame was leaning precariously against one of the walls, rusty after standing alone for so long. An old desk was shoved beside the closet. It looked eerie and lonely in its neglected corner. Beside the "bed" was a rotting wooden nightstand. A gross-looking lamp was perched on top of it, though it clearly hadn't worked in years. Besides that furniture, the room was filled with papers and litter that had been scattered across the floor. It was all pretty disgusting when she thought about it.

She looked up and Fred jerked his head toward the closet, indicating that he was going to check it out. He tried his best to move toward it quietly, but the insistent creaking of the floorboards eradicated any hope of sneaking up. Daphne took a step forward, right behind Fred. He held a hand up to stop her. She huffed, irritated. Did he really think she was so useless that she couldn't help him investigate a _closet_? Honestly, her presence wouldn't do anything to _hurt _the situation.

Fred reached for the closet door, turning the knob. He flung the door open.

It was empty. Nothing but the remnants of a long-forgotten nightgown lying limply on the floor.

Daphne heard Fred breathe out a sigh of relief. She would have been relieved, too, had it not been for the creaking floorboard that sounded just behind her. If she was standing still and Fred was in front of her, that could only mean that someone else was in the room. Shaggy, Scooby or Velma surely would have announced themselves rather than trying to be sneaky. So, instead of relief, Daphne started to panic.

Brookes was behind her.

Fred turned around, a triumphant grin on his face. The smile dissolved as he undoubtedly saw Brookes standing there. Daphne's heart gave a frightened jolt as something cold and metallic was pressed against her temple.

It was a gun.

He was threatening to kill her.

Fred was just standing there, motionless.

_Please, God, let me live_, she silently pleaded as utter terror pulsed in her veins. She had never been more scared in her life, and now she might not chance to be scared ever again. He was probably going to kill her. She felt warm tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill out. Daphne bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. Her breathing sped up and she couldn't seem to control it. Was this really how it would end? Killed by a man who dressed up as a scarecrow?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of just _standing_, Brookes roughly shoved Daphne away. She stumbled next to Fred and stared at their attacker. He flicked the gun between them, as if unsure who to kill first.

"I just want to talk for a bit, okay?" he told them. His voice was smooth and slightly insane, making him that much more terrifying. "I have a proposition for you. If you let me leave and you get your little friends to stop chasing me, I'll make sure that both of you live. I think that's a fair trade: my freedom for your life."

Daphne could barely process what he was saying. She was trembling by now and her legs felt too weak to hold her up. She could tell that Fred was looking at her, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the gun-wielding maniac before them. Fred gently took her hand and squeezed it. Daphne forced herself to take a deep breath. Fred was here. He would protect her, just like he always did.

"So, what'll it be?" Brookes asked. "Do you and your girlfriend want to wake up to see tomorrow, or do you want to make sure that a petty criminal like me goes to jail? Hmm? The choice is yours."

Daphne considered this. She didn't want to stop living just because of a man like Brookes. There was still so much more she had to do in life. She wanted to be a doctor, or perhaps she would be a P.I. She wanted to be with Fred, to tell him that she'd been in love with him for several years now. She wanted to see Shaggy and Scooby have another eating contest while Velma looked on in disgust. She wanted so much more from life, and it wasn't fair for it to end here.

Finally, she turned to Fred and said, "I don't want to die." Her voice came out as a shaky whisper. Even still, if Fred wanted to get this guy, she would go along with it. She was making it his choice.

Thankfully, it seemed as if no one would be dying any time soon. He looked down at her and squeezed her hand again. "Neither do I." He turned to face Brookes. "You're not worth risking our lives. Go on, leave."

There was a positively devilish grin on Brookes' face when he heard this answer. He looked quite satisfied as he answered, "Well, I knew you'd be reasonable." He began to leave before he turned back, his eyes glinting with a wicked fire. "In case you lot _do _decide to come after me while I'm heading out, I think I'll just keep a little hostage. You should do nicely." He pointed the gun in Daphne's direction.

Renewed fear and panic hit her with an overwhelming force. It looked like her chances of survival had plummeted once more.

Brookes had barely taken a step forward before Fred shoved Daphne behind him, standing in the criminal's path. There was a split second where Fred glanced over his shoulder. He must have seen the dawning horror in Daphne's expression as she realized what was happening before he did. She wanted to yell for him to get out of the way. She _needed _to tell him what would happen next, but Brookes acted before her warnings had the chance to be heard.

The gunshot was deafening. It sliced through Daphne's hopes for the future as it entered Fred's chest. The young, burly boy who had been taught to withstand so much fell to the floor, his body sprawled across the ground in a rather clumsy manner. Blood was beginning to pool around his wound and he looked almost confused, unsure of what was going on.

Daphne started to cry. Sobbing was probably a more accurate term. She barely noticed when Brookes ran out the door. Her world had shattered to pieces.

"No, no, no, no," she kept repeating between tears, almost hoping that this little word could take back everything that had happened.

She looked down at Fred and rushed to his side. He looked dazed, unceratin.

"Fred, listen to me," she said, not sure what she should do with her hands. "Fred, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay. No, of course you're not okay." She struggled to keep control as a new wave of sobs threatened to take over. When she spoke again her voice cracked mercilessly. "Everything's going to be alright." She put her hands over the wound. She'd seen people do this in movies and on TV whenever someone got shot. Still trying to keep one hand on the bleeding injury, she fumbled with her cell phone. After explaining to the guy on the other line, she turned to Fred and told him, "I've called the ambulance. They'll be here soon. Oh, dammit, Freddie, why did you have to be such a hero? Why did you have to jump out and protect me?"

A few tears slid down her cheeks and landed on Fred's nose.

"Because I love you," he finally responded in a gruff voice. "Always have…always will." His eyes were slipping out of focus.

Daphne cried harder. Why did he have to tell her _now?_ Why did he have to tell her when everything was ending?

After she managed to get her weeping under control, she said, "I love you too, Freddie. I really do. I wish you'd told me sooner."

_Please, God, let him live_, she begged.

She looked down. Fred was growing more and more distant. He didn't even seem to be in pain anymore. The no-pain-thing was good, but shouldn't he be feeling _something_? Daphne decided that she needed to keep Fred focused. She bent down a little farther, closing the space between them. She gently pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft, sweet and brief. There was no tongue, no going at it, but instead it was just a simple declaration of affection.

She'd been wanting to do that for quite some time, and when she pulled away, a sad smile graced her lips. Fred was grinning like a little kid in a candy store (a cliche comparison, but it was true nonetheless). For some reason, he decided that it would be a good idea to sit up, despite his gaping injury. He winced as the wound resisted his movement and Daphne carefully lowered him back onto the floor.

His eyes were fuzzy and he seemed to be slipping away. Daphne put her hands on his face. "Fred, stay with me. Just concentrate on my voice. Stay with me, Freddie," she pleaded. "Don't leave. Don't go." Her crying intensified once more as the gravity of the situation hit her with crippling force. She kept repeating variations of the same thing: "Stay with me, Fred. Don't go, Fred. Don't leave me, Fred. Please, please, please. Don't leave. Please."

His eyes began to flutter closed.

"No, no, Fred, please, stay with me. Don't go," she begged, her voice broken by the unending sobs.

She could almost feel his consciousness fading away.

_No, _she told herself. _Fred wouldn't leave me like that. He'll be alright. He has to be alright_. Fred was strong, tough, invincible. He could get through anything. He would be okay. He had to be okay. He wouldn't let some random criminal come in and take him away.

Right?


End file.
